Where I Land
by Caris August
Summary: In one world: A determined young Arizona leaves all she's known in 1600s Europe to embark on a quest of self-discovery to the New World. In another: A curious Callie searches for something to satisfy her thirst for danger while living in a tribe full of rules and tradition where her father is chief. What happens when each woman meets the other?
1. The Docks

**Holy crap! Honestly, I had this crazy idea about a month ago and it wouldn't leave me! So. This is very AU, will not have any definite or noticable resemblances to the show plot line. **

**Time period: Let's say around the early 1600s (maybe even late 1500s) **

**One thing you should know: It's based off a classic Disney movie, if you guess it you get bonus points! Trust me, you'll guess it. It won't follow the movie directly, but the setting and key plot points may correspond to some degree. Who knows? My mind is a crazy place. **

**I need REVIEWS! Let me know if this made your day... ruined your life... sucked... excelled... etc. I need something to go on. **

**Happy readings, **

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The fog rolled into the shore as the dawn broke slowly, whispering and reaching into the streets of Vaghn. Covering houses, shops, boats, and stables with a fine grey mist. It was typical weather for a coastal village, hardly unheard of. Shutters were still firmly shut, residents refusing to welcome the new day just yet, the cobblestoned roads were filled with a quiet that descended upon everything like a thick sheet. In a dark side alley a circular metal plate moved with the softest of scraps off of the hole that led down to the sewers beneath the town. Hands gripped the sides of the hole as a lean, but muscular body hauled itself up onto the street. Crouching low, the hooded figure checked that no prying eyes had seen, before gently sliding the cover back into place. The figure stood tall, wiping small hands onto the beige trousers hidden behind a cloak, and then hauling the hood back, revealing a firm jawed young woman.

She wore a proud smirk on her face, tugging loose blond waves out from the cloak. She shook her hair and ran nimble fingers through it before hauling it all back from her face and tying it with a leather band from her wrist. With a final glance in either direction, the woman sunk into the shadows along the walls of the alley. She stayed close to the sides as she took a left and turned onto a wider street. Passing a fur store, she back tracked and gently rattled the shop door. Locked. Crouching, the woman felt along the sides of the door frame and then stretched to slide her hand along the top, eventually locating an iron key.

"They could make it a little more difficult," she muttered, shoving the key into the door and entering the closed store. Soon she emerged wearing a thin felt cap atop her head with her hair hiding securely underneath. She locked the door, slipped the key back into place and continued on her way.

The woman continued making her way silently along the empty road, heading towards the direction of the water. After 10 minutes or so had passed, voices could be heard carrying on the air. The wharfs were bustling with activity, most sailors wanting to get out on the open sea before the heat of the day hit. It was the only part of Vaghn active at this time of day.

The woman approached the docks, adopting a confident stride as she went, copying the sailors and wharf hands who passed by. They didn't bother to give the stranger a second glance which kept the smirk firmly on her face. To these men, a person dressed in pants, a cap and a travelling cloak was indefinitely a man, no matter if they had a beard and broad shoulders, or not. They automatically assumed this unfamiliar man was some young boy from out of town, perhaps sick of leaning on his father's money and wanting to prove himself and his independence. The wharfs were certainly an attraction for that type of bloke, nothing screamed bravery like sea-faring sailor. The wild oceans, long voyages, deadly storms, it wasn't the most secure career. If you made it to retirement you were deemed respectable, admirable, or just plain lucky. All were nice titles to have.

The woman, however, wasn't searching for a reputation. All she wanted was an adventure, and of course a huge amount of silver at the end would be nice too. She tucked an escaping curl back into the fur cap, stooped low and ran her hand along the ground and gathered a good bunch of street grim on it. She smudged the dirt across her face, along her jaw line, and down her neck; if she was going to be a believable sailor she had to look like one. She checked her reflection in the window of a small dock diner before going inside.

The bell clanged as she entered, alerting the bar a new customer had just walked in. She leaned against the counter, throwing a smile at the man beside her who simply muttered and raised his glass to his lips.

"What can I do for you, sir?" asked the grey bearded bartender. He had a toothless smile and for being surrounded with alcohol all day long he seemed very alert. The lines around his eyes screamed approachable. The woman nodded, "yeah, a pint of draft, please?"

The bartender motioned one moment and turned around, a minute later a frothing beer appeared in front of her. She cupped it appreciatively, giving her thanks, but the man didn't leave.

"If you don't mind me asking, bit early to be drinking, isn't it?"

She shrugged, "needed some liquid courage, I suppose."

He nodded, "ah, I see."

"Besides," she sipped her drink, "we're celebrating."

The bartender laughed, "what exactly?"

"My freedom," the woman stated it like it was old news, "the beginning of my life, the start of the first journey."

"Most men aren't as excited at the prospect of working at the wharfs as you are."

"I guess most men take it for granted," she winked and in her mind thought, _"most men haven't worn a corset." _

The bartender chuckled and extended his hand, "name's Benjamin."

The woman shook it, gripping firmly, "Benjamin."

"And you are?"

"John," she replied, shifting into a more comfortable position and gulping the beer, "John Smith, I just arrived here last evening."

He held up his arms and motioned around him, "well, welcome to Vaghn, John Smith."

She grinned, "You're the first to say that, thank you! I officially feel part of the village now."

"My pleasure, where you from?"

This was the first question that caused her to falter, and she looked down, opening her mouth and closing it again.

Benjamin shook his head, "Didn't mean to pry, sir." .

"No," she said, sighing, "no- its fine. Just touched a nerve. I'm from Portland originally; my father works in the mayor's house there. I helped him… until recently."

"Ah! The mayor of Portland, sounds extravagant!"

"Very much so."

Benjamin was leaning forward on the counter, sincerely engaged in the conversation. She felt touched, no one had ever seemed to hang on her every word before. It was liberating.

"Tell me about life there," he held up his hand, "if you don't mind, of course."

His interest and the beer were sparkling inside her and she nodded, "It's humid, Portland summers are hot and the sun beats down on you constantly. It's sticky, the kind of weather that makes the women want to shed their blasted shawls and roll up the sleeves on their dresses. I would walk bare foot across the grounds. Milked the cows before dawn, and prepared the horses for their morning rides. In the afternoon, I'd pick strawberries in the fields. You could always sneak a few when the supervisors weren't watching. They were sour, but not the bad kind of sour. Just sour enough that you couldn't resist to have another, the juice would roll down your face, and stick to your fingers."

She glanced at Benjamin who nodded for her to continue, "In the evening I'd assist my father in the kitchen, he prepared the meals. I would skin potatoes with the young house maids. Their foreheads would get beaded with sweat, but they never stopped until the last vegetable was gone, so neither did I. After the work day was finished the mayor gave us the rest of the night off." She smiled at the memories, "And that's when we would really come alive. Dancing along the lakeside, people banging on drums and strumming guitars. Stories shared over open fire, shots of whatever our meager paychecks could buy. The children would be sent off to sleep and the adults would stay out a little later, gossiping and passing around news. Sometimes lovers would disappear into the pine trees around the property, coming back just before the dawn. And then, the whole process would repeat itself again. And again. An unending circle."

She swallowed the rest of her drink, feeling incredibly thirsty and a bit feverish for the life she had left behind.

"Incredible," Benjamin murmured, mostly to himself than to her. "It sounds beautiful, John, no one could have articulated it better."

"Thank you."

"Especially the part where the women shed their shawls," he said with a wink.

"Mhm," the young woman nodded in approval, "sometimes, if you were lucky, it was more than just a shawl."

He chuckled, "I bet you're quite skilled in the game of 'chance', sir."

She laughed. "If you mean that I bed women… then yes, Benjamin, occasionally I do alright."

"Well, young mister like yourself, why not?" He threw his hand up like that was the most absurd thing he had ever heard. Taking, her empty glass Benjamin walked over to the sink behind the counter. He returned a short minute later. "I'm not supposed to pry into my customers' lives, but I have one more question for you."

She smiled, "Tell me."

"What made you leave?"

She paused, "Benjamin, what are a person's basic needs?"

He frowned, his question met with a question, but the stranger in front of him was too interesting to object to. "Well, I'd say water, food, shelter? Those sorts of things."

"What about a purpose?" she asked in return, "what about romance? Adventure? Discovery?"

"I would think those are extras, sir. They're benefits."

"_Yes," _the woman acknowledged, pointing a finger at him, "See, that's the difference between you and I. I believe to live, truly live, you need a purpose. To know your place in the world and strive towards it. To leap and not even care if you don't reach the ledge, because the leaping part in itself was the climax. I don't need food or water or a safe place to put my head, I need my blood to boil and my heart to pound. _That_ is my definition of living. And I won't find it by spending my life happily serving some old mayor, God bless his soul, until the day I die."

Benjamin nodded, "you're one of them dream chasers then."

The woman halted suddenly, "what do you mean, 'one of them'?"

"Well, Mr. Smith, I've seen plenty of men like you over my years. They come full of hope, talking about their dreams, speaking like there's one specific thing they were created to do and they won't be happy until they find out what it is-"

"And do they find it?" She interrupts.

"Some might," he admitted, picking up a dusty glass and polishing it against his filthy apron, "but they've never came back to tell me…"

She slouched forward, never breaking eye contact from the older man, "Well, this I swear on my living soul: I will find my life. It's out there, somewhere. And when I find it, Benjamin, I swear you will be the first person I will run to tell, for nothing else than at least to prove you wrong." She finished with a wink, to which he accepted with a smile.

"I would like that very much, sir."

Seeing that the diner was becoming increasingly crowded, more men lumbering through the door every few minutes or so, the woman shifted to her feet. She pushed the chair back in and tipped her hat to the bartender, careful not to actually lift the felt cap from her head. She pulled a lone coin out of her trouser pocket and flicked it with her thumb onto the counter. "Well, this has been a surprisingly pleasant visit. Thanks to you, I think I'll return here when the ships next come back from the New World, if I live that long that is."

He stopped polishing the glass and leaned across the counter, "you going to the New World are you? You're really looking for adventure."

"I never do things half-assed."

"You got a ship you're going on?"

The woman shrugged, "not yet, thought I'd see who needed a willing deckhand."

"Well! You better skip to it," Benjamin stuttered, pointing to the ancient grandfather clock against the opposite wall, "All boats are heading out in 20 minutes!"

"Exactly why I must be going," she smirked and gave a flourish of a bow, "until we meet again, Benjamin!"

"My pleasure to have met you, John Smith."

"I can assure you, the pleasure was entirely mine," and with that and one final wave the stranger hurried toward the front door. She threw it open heavily and took off down the dock, eyes scanning immediately for a ship waiting to set sail. _"Father,"_ she muttered under her breath, shoving past two men coiling rope, _"if you could see me now."_


	2. The Storm

**Okay, so the whole girl dressing up as a man thing makes this fic kind of based on two Disney films. Pocahontas and Mulan, the princess rebels. Cool. A lot of familiar Grey's characters this chapter, but no Calliope yet. Have patience! **

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Chapter 2: The Storm

Somehow, God willing, she had ended up on a ship that day at the dock. There was a desperate first-mate searching for one more deckhand to please his captain before they left on a nine month exploration of the New World. Fate had dealt her a good hand. The ship, named the Lost Adele after supposedly one of the Captain's past lovers, was a sturdy well-built ship with a crew that ranged from drunkards to dedicated young men. It wasn't a prestigious vessel, but it had what she was searching for: a ticket out of the modernized Europe. No more stuck up women, no more days spent on the same farm, no more stereotypes and hard set morals. Freedom for her came in the form of this boat, and she was extremely grateful.

It was late in the night, and the woman was sitting high in the crow's nest, legs hanging over the side and trousers billowing in the light ocean breeze. No one had suspected her womanhood since coming aboard, they were either too dumb to notice her hips and curves or her clothes were doing their purpose in hiding them. It had been her turn for the watch; they rotated loosely every few hours. They had been on the water for over two weeks and the men were getting restless, they wanted to be on dry land. The Captain had informed them yesterday that they should be expecting the New World to loom on the horizon in another week or so.

Scanning the expanse of inky black water around her, the woman sighed and pulled out a letter from her front pocket. It was brown and smudged from being constantly opened and read by dirty fingers and it was starting to tear at the crease. She flipped it open and began to scan the words she had practically memorized over the last two weeks.

_Dearest daughter, _

_There hasn't been a minute when I haven't loved you, please know that. Although I may not understand your reasons for leaving, I respect your decision. I do not consider it my place to speak for you any longer, you have grown into an adult before my very eyes. However, heed my advice. Take it to heart and you will always have my blessing._

_Limit yourself wisely, I do not mean to say you are incapable, but somethings are not to be attempted. So respect the difference between stupidity and risk-taking. Keep a level head, listen more than you speak, but do not hide your opinions. Be open to all, but allow few to have your companionship. Do not fall for the handsome man, fall for the smart one. Do not give anyone control of your choice-making for when the tangible is stripped away our choices are all we have left. Be sure they belong to you. _

_The last words I have for you come from your mother, she says when you are desperate look to the heavens and follow the footsteps of our ancestors. _

_I pray for your safety and for, someday, your return. Find what you are looking for and never forget that you are Arizona Robbins, daughter of Daniel Robbins and that my love is with you. _

_Your father, D. Robbins_

The woman growled as she wiped at her eyes, the letter never failing to bring out a tear or two. It meant everything to her that her parents supported her decision. Most fathers would feel dishonored to discover that their only daughter wanted to run off to who knows where. When she first came forward with her request she had expected anger to say the least, perhaps even a slap to the face. But no. There was only concern. Perhaps if he knew she was going to pretend to be a man and sail to the New World with a hard-shaped crew it would have been different.

On the day she left her parents seemed dazed, as if they weren't sure what they lacked to provide for their daughter that forced her to leave.

She had to say, that was what hurt the most. There was nothing she had never received from her parents, and for them to blame themselves almost kept her from leaving. In the end though, she decided it was better to be selfish for once than to be miserable for the rest of her life. She had their blessing, and that was what mattered.

Arizona Robbins tucked the letter back into her pocket and stared back out to sea pondering the ever-present question that had haunted her since boarding the ship: was this all a terrible mistake?

-::-

"If you had one regret what would it be?"

"I don't know," Arizona said, looping a thick rope around one of the wood spokes on the side of the ship and tying it securely. It had been a week and still no sign of land, and not only that but the weather had recently taken a turn for the worst. For three days the crew had been battling an intense storm that had come up from the south and refused to be shaken off.

Arizona discovered quickly that amidst the rain, sleet and wind she couldn't keep covering her waist length blond hair beneath a flimsy fur cap. Every time she moved it threatened to blow away and reveal her identity. Sulkily, the previous evening she had snuck down to the lower deck with a dull dagger and when no one was around she chopped off her golden waves, watching them blow away and swallowed by the sea. Now she was sporting a very uneven chin-length style. Her fingers kept on tugging at the end of her short hair insecurely, as if searching for the missing strands.

Arizona was miserable. She couldn't even look at herself in the dingy mirror hanging below deck and she felt like she had been constantly soaked for the past 72 hours, along with everyone else. It was safe to say that not only her, but the entire crew was miserable.

"What was your favorite pass time as a child?" George O'Malley asked again. "Mine was riding."

Correction. The entire crew but one was miserable. George was the youngest and most inexperienced member of the crew, and had stuck himself to Arizona like glue. Most likely because the rest of the men couldn't stand him for more than 15 minute intervals at a time. Usually she could be pleasantly polite to the kid, offer him some advice, show him a new knot, and laugh when she was supposed to. He was nice, and she felt bad for him. However, right now the waves were crashing around them, she felt half bald, he was talking a mile a minute, and she was pissed.

"I don't know," she bit back again, hoping he would notice her tone and shove off. Arizona fought the wind and rain to the starboard side of the ship, checking the rigging as George stumbled beside her.

"Alright, alright, I got an honest question Mr. Smith," he assured her.

She glanced around at the other deckhands who were clambering around the deck as well. Some shouted orders and some were cussing repeatedly, but the wind was howling too much for her to hear their words. "What?" she asked, wiping her wet hands on her wet trousers.

"Do you believe in a person's spirit animal?"

Arizona whipped around and looked George dead in the eye. "O'Malley, are you serious right now?"

He finally seemed to notice he was doing something wrong, "um, no… No Sir, not at all."

"'No' is right," she said, standing directly in front of him, permeating his personal space. He cowered under her. "There is a storm. A hug one, actually. So if you would be so kind as to never mention soul animals-"

"_Spirit _animals," he mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Right," she sighed and placed her hand on his shoulder, shaking it firmly, "George, you're a good kid and you work hard, anyone can see that. But you need to act like an adult, our ship could be in danger of sinking at any moment. You have to constantly be aware of your surroundings and keep a level head."

They stumbled when a wave jostled the boat, George falling with his back against the railing of the ship and her taking a few steps backwards and away from him. He looked down, shamed but hearing her words.

"I'm sorry; I guess I just want you to like me. You're the only one who hasn't brushed me off and we still have 8 ½ more months to go. I didn't want to-"

"George! Watch it!" She interrupted as a lone wave rolled suddenly into view directly behind him. He turned too late and with a force only nature could produce the water hit him head on, knocking him and Arizona both off their feet.

Water flooded the deck and then just as quickly began to recoil with a strong surge back into the ocean. Arizona was dragged towards the railing and she latched on to it with a death grip as she spluttered and coughed. He eyes burned with salt and George was nowhere in sight. When the wave had dissipated she stood, staggering around in bewilderment. "George!" she shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth, "George!"

Fellow crewmen flocked to her side, asking if she was alright, telling her to get below deck and dry off.

"No, no wait… where's George? George! George!" she insisted.

Someone from the side of the ship, it could have been Burke but she wasn't sure, pointed out into the sea. "Man overboard!" he announced. They all hurried to his side and looked down at the churning ocean. In the middle of white caps and dark navy swells was a small figure struggling to stay afloat, someone tossed a line but George slipped underneath the waves.

Arizona took in the other men; they looked defeated as they pulled the rope back onto the deck. Her anger surged like the wave that had blown George off the ship, how dare they forsake him with so little effort. Did they even give a damn? Running to the nearest mast, Arizona grabbed the rope coiled safely around it. She unwrapped it hastily, but she couldn't keep the rope from slipping from her shaking fingers. She tied one end to the mast and the other to her waist.

"John! What are you doing?" Burke demanded, just noticing her actions. The others glanced her way as she was tugging at the rope around her, testing the knot.

Derek Shepherd stood in front of her, "He's gone, John, there's no way to get to him."

Arizona shoved the rope into his hands, her jaw set as she backed up two paces in order to have a good start off. "When I pull the rope, haul us back," she said and then ran before they could grab her, throwing herself over the edge of the ship. She fell fast, the world around her a mixture of waves and dark grey clouds. The rain stung her face as she put her hands in front of her, hoping for a clean dive.

She hit the water harder than she expected and sunk a good ten feet down before managing to kick her way to the surface. She broke with a gasp, the oxygen burning as it filled her lungs. "GEORGE!" She cried hoarsely, treading water. The waves splashed her roughly in the face, filling her ears and nose with water, she was so preoccupied with staying afloat that she almost didn't see the pale hand that emerged off to her left. It clenched blindly, searching for anything before a swell forced it down again and it disappeared.

Arizona swam, her arms cutting the water evenly and for a moment she forgot the whole situation and silently thanked her father for teaching her to swim as a child in the lake behind the house when the mayor wasn't home. She reached the spot where she thought she saw George's hand and plugged her nose before ducking underwater. Searching blindly for a few moments she emerged for air before going down again. This time Arizona went down further, thrashing her feet until as fortune would have it she bumped headfirst into a motionless object. She felt a type of fabric, possibly a shirt, and latched onto it forcefully. Her arm snaked around what she hoped to be George's waist and she kicked with all her might, somehow reaching the surface.

George lay deathly still in her arms, his head against her chest. He wasn't taking in air and for a moment she looked down at him in worry. Then a wave hit and they were submerged once again. Arizona pulled at the rope around her waist, hauling until it tensed and waited, hoping Shepherd had felt it. They swirled around until she could no longer tell up from down and her body screamed at her for air. Her thoughts were beginning to slip away when she felt a tug from the rope and was dragged through the water. Her arm tightened on George possessively, feeling as if he was her treasure she had found like a pirate who hunts for gold.

They broke the surface together, and she spit water out of her throat. George was a dead weight in her arms as the men onboard lifted them straight out of the water and up the side of the ship. When they reached the railing someone took the lifeless O'Malley from her while Burke grabbed the back of her tunic, dragging her with one hand onto the deck. She was dumped onto the wooden floor and Arizona flopped uselessly onto her back, her chest rising and falling at an incredible rate. She turned her head to the side to see Shepherd tending to George, pushing in a rhythmic fashion on his chest and periodically closing his mouth over the younger man's.

"Why," she rasped; her voice husky with sea water, "why is he kissing him?"

A few of the crew smirked and Burke hauled her into a sitting position. He gave her a hard slap on the back, making her wince. "He's not," he said, "Derek's resuscitating him. He's blowing air into his lungs; see how he plugs his nose. Every sailor knows how to do it, standard knowledge; I'm surprised no one told you already."

Just then George spluttered back into existence, spraying Derek's face as he hacked up whatever had been buried in his lungs. Shepherd grimaced and leaned back, wiping his hands across his cheeks. George groaned as someone turned him on his side so he could retch more easily. When he finished someone wrapped him in a ratted blanket and sat him up like Burke did for Arizona.

Derek hauled his ear roughly, making George yelp. "O'Malley," he grinned, "You're one lucky son of a bitch."

"Or he simply knows how to pick loyal friends."

Everyone turned towards the voice that was an even mixture of soft and firm, they had only heard it a very few times since setting out to sea. Captain Richard Webber stood behind them, dressed in a long hanging suit and wearing a navy white-feathered hat. Immediately the crew turned respectfully silent, the only sound was George's teeth clattering together from shock.

"Gentlemen," he greeted, inclining his head to them all. The storm had let up somewhat, and although the waves rocked the boat the rain had stopped. His gaze found Arizona's. "I heard O'Malley was washed to sea."

Owen Hunt, the first-mate stepped up from where he was checking over George's vitals. "He was, sir, there was a rogue wave and it carried him off before anyone could do a thing. There-"

"I also heard that this young man here," he pointed to Arizona, "jumped in after him and saved his life."

Hunt nodded, "He did ,sir." He seemed a bit sheepish that he hadn't done it himself since he was the first-mate and his responsibility was the well-being of the crew.

Webber clapped Hunt on the back as he walked past him and towards the two individuals still sitting wet and soaking on the deck. "It's alright, Hunt, we can't always be the hero," he extended his hand to Arizona, "your name?"

Arizona stood, rejecting Webber's hand until she was on her own two feet, then she seized it and shook it strongly. "John Smith, sir."

"Smith, walk with me."

She nodded, suddenly confused as her exhaustion and soaked clothes were momentarily forgotten. The Captain turned to the rest of the crew, "men, I know you're discouraged but we need to keep making headway. Back to your stations. Expect O'Malley, someone get him below deck and give him something hot to drink."

There were a few "aye"s, and the others simply sullenly walked back to work, the scene was over. Shepherd and Burke half walked, half carried George down into the bunk house. Arizona shifted on her feet, waiting for Webber to summon her to come along but he simply turned and began to walk away, causing her to hesitate before following him.

"That was a brave thing, Smith," he stated after a moment of silence.

"That?" she asked, pointing back to the railing she had dove over not 15 minutes ago. "It wasn't so much courage, sir, as it was responsibility."

"Mhm? Explain."

She shrugged, "I was disciplining George when the wave hit, it was because of me that he failed to see it coming. I was responsible."

"You were giving him advice, the wave was an unfortunate coincidence," Webber pointed out.

"If I hadn't had done something my conscience would never let me forget it."

The Captain stopped close to the hull, leaning against the railing on the port side of the ship. He stared out at the ocean with a wild abandonment as Arizona stood stiffly beside him. The aura he emitted made her uncomfortable, he reeked intelligence, but the selfish kind. The kind of intelligent that people know they possess. "I'm thankful that there's one good, honest man on this ship, Smith."

"Thank you, sir."

"Are you looking forward to the New World?"

Arizona gave a small smile, "more than anything, sir."

"Me too," Webber sighed and stood up straight, leaning back to study her more closely. "You need to eat more."

"Excuse me?"

He chuckled, "you're skinny, Smith. One of the most painfully thin suckers I've ever hired."

"Runs in the family," she muttered under her breath. "Sir, I can assure you I'm more than capable to manage physical labor."

Webber nodded, "trust me, after your little show today of that I have no doubt. Not anyone can swim in a mid-Atlantic storm while trying to keep an unconscious man afloat."

Arizona bowed her head.

"And despite your stature, I have to confess that I like you, Smith," he said, making her raise her eyebrows in question, "you're a good sailor, and you've earned my favor. I hope it stays that way."

"Me too, sir."

"Good."

They had reached the set of wooden stairs leading to the upper deck where the wheel was located, no one but the Captain and the first-mate were allowed access to that part of the ship. He reached out to shake her hand again. "Get some rest, Smith."

"Yes sir."

Captain Webber started up the steps but looked back over his shoulder suddenly.

"Smith, one more question for you."

Arizona nodded, "yes?"

He searched her face for any sort of immediate reaction as he spoke. "What was it like? Jumping over the railing and diving into the sea. An old man like myself can't experience such actions anymore."

Her blue eyes lit into existence and she smiled, "it felt like freedom, sir."

"Ha, I assumed so," he muttered, turning and walking up the steps and out of sight, "assumed so."

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**They won't all be this long! Review, let me see what advice and encouragment (hopefully) you've got for me. What did you think of Richard as the Capt? Bad? Good? I thought it shook things up a bit. **

**Oh, guess who makes an appearance next chapter? Mhm, that's right. Go Torres! And where the heck is Mark?**


	3. The Ship

**Quick update, this chapter isn't as long as the last but hopefully interests you! Enjoy! **

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Chapter 3: The Ship

Calliope Iphegenia ran as fast as her legs could carry her, swerving through the dense pine trees like a light summer breeze. Her tanned body seemed to shimmer as she moved, the sunlight bouncing off it in just the right way. She laughed as she threw a glance over her shoulder, seeing that Addison was several yards behind her and slumped over with her hands on her knees, breathing heavy. "Come on!" Callie cried, not taking pity or bothering to slow down.

She pushed herself harder, the air in her raven hair felt good. The beads hanging from her stretched-hide dress made the softest of rustles as they brushed up against each other, they seemed to be urging her on. After a spell the trees thinned and opened up onto a soft mossy clearing, at the edge was a cliff that dropped sharply into a lake 50 feet below. Callie stopped; she panted as she collapsed onto the moss and rolled over on her back. She had coaxed a butterfly resting on a buttercup onto her finger by the time Addison arrived at the clearing. The smaller girl threw herself down next to Callie, wiping the auburn hair back from her face.

Since she was a youngling Addison Montgomery had been her dedicated and closest friend. Half the reason was because Callie's father, the chief of the Miaminians, owned Addison and gave her strict orders to watch over his daughter. Addison's mother was of the tribe, but her father was a soldier from across the sea. He had traveled from the east, from the tribe of "Europe". He was taking a canoe up the river while she was bathing; they met, fell in love, and conceived. Her father was killed by the tribe when they discovered her mother's treachery, it was unholy to have relations with the white men, they were manipulative and usually meant trouble. Her mother died while giving birth. Addison was orphaned the moment she breathed her first breath, and her flaming hair marked her cruelly as a mixed-blood.

Callie's father, advisor of the chief at the time had pity on the child. He took her as a 'slave' and a 'laborer' but raised her as family, perhaps not exactly as a daughter, but it was more than most would have done. She was told to be Callie's companion until Callie wedded off, joining herself to one of the men of the tribe.

Despite the orders to guard Callie's life, Addison held no anger in her heart. She wasn't jealous of Callie's relationship with her father, but had accepted her fate long ago. They were close friends, inseparable. The only problem Callie had was that Addison refused to ever participate in any activity that put them in danger. She was fully convinced that her sole purpose on this earth and the reason she had been born was to keep Callie safe. Occasionally, Addison's reserved responsibility and Callie's wild personality clashed.

"Thought I lost you for good back there," Callie teased, staring up at the clouds drifting across the sky.

"I'm not that easy to get rid of," Addison bit back, sitting up and stretching an arm behind her back. "Why must you always run so fast?"

Callie sighed, "sometimes I think if I run fast enough I can escape my fate."

"Which is?" Addison knew, but she wanted Callie to voice it aloud.

"This will be my 19th spring, most women marry on their 18th. My father won't let me see another year without a husband."

"Hey, what is that frown for?" She poked at Callie's side gently, "you aren't simply taking _any _husband, you're betrothed to Markus the Iron-Axed. The man who pretty much single handedly defeated 25 enemy tribesmen last summer. He could be a God."

Callie scoffed, "more like Markus the Iron-Headed."

Addison slapped her, "not nice, I thought you didn't mind him."

"I don't!" She sat up, turning and facing Addison face-on as she tried to explain herself. "That's the problem, Addy, I don't mind him. I don't want to be married to someone I don't mind, I want to be married to someone I'm madly, irrevocably in love with."

"You talk like a mad woman."

"If I'm mad for wanting love, then fine, I'll be mad," she replied stubbornly.

Addison sighed, as Callie laid back down. She ran a hand through her friend's black hair, trying to sooth her. "At least you have the chance to marry. I never will, no one will take a half-breed. "

"Addison," Callie glanced up at her in alarm, "please don't, I didn't mean to imply such things. I think that if you find someone worthy of you they will take you despite your inheritance."

"I wish your romanticism was always accurate…"

Callie squeezed her knee, "well it may not always be, but in this case it is. Have faith."

Addison nodded, "and you try to accept that marrying Markus may not be such a bad thing. You enjoy his company, he is your friend, is that not enough of a foundation? Love needs time to grow."

"Does it though?" she asked genuinely, "sometimes I think that someday I will just look at someone, just catch their gaze or maybe their reflection in the water and I'll know. I'll want them immediately, and they will want me. And I won't stop until they're mine."

"It sounds dangerous," Addison admitted as she bit her lip, "handing your life over to someone you know nothing about."

"I'll know everything about them, just by simply looking into their eyes."

Addison laughed, "you're crazy."

"We established that," Callie nodded and then stood, giving her friend a playful shove. She brushed the moss off her dress. "Come on, let's go for a swim."

"We have to get back! The chief demanded your presence at his table tonight and it's almost dusk now."

"Well," Callie said as she approached the cliff, "we better take the shortcut to the lake if we're going to get a swim in before then."

Addison gazed warily at the edge of the cliff, "I hate it when you do that."

"Join me!" She extended her hand.

"Um, no. I'll ah… meet you at the bottom," Addison said, trying to back off, but Callie caught her arm and hauled them towards the edge.

"On three…"

"Callie!"

"One."

Addison clawed at her friend's arm, begging to be released.

"Two."

"Calliope!" Don't you d-" Addison began, but before she could finish Callie gave her a huge shove, sending her toppling over the edge. An unholy scream echoed around the lake below and Callie chuckled.

Seeing that Addison resurfaced safely at the bottom she smiled. "Three," she whispered, breathed in, and jumped.

Callie let out a cry, not of fear, but of delight. She whooped loudly before sinking into the water, swimming easily to the top and emerging gracefully. She laughed when she looked over at Addison, treading water and glowering at her like some drown animal. Callie couldn't resist, and with both hands splashed her directly in the face. Addison yelped and splashed back. They emitted girlish squeals and high-pitched screams, before Addison threw her hands up in mock surrender.

"Victory!" Callie cried, pounding the water with a fist, "you're no match for me!"

Addison opened her mouth to respond, but something behind Callie's head caught her attention, keeping her mouth open in a perfect 'O'. "… Callie," she managed to whisper, "look."

She smirked at the redhead, "Addison, what are you…" Callie trailed off as she turned to look over her shoulder. The lake they were in was a three minute jog to the shores of the sandy bay and along with that the ocean. The forest had thinned out over time between the lake and the bay, leaving a distant view of the sea on the horizon that was visible between the tall oak trees that still stood between the two bodies of water.

On the horizon a great solid object was being pulled into the bay by what Callie could only describe as several thin, triangular clouds. She had seen such a sight only once before in her life. When the last group of white men had landed and tried to drive the Miamians out of the region. The great brown beast that floated on the ocean was their transportation. Fear should have struck her upon seeing the object, she should be running to report this to her father, but instead Callie's stomach fluttered excitedly. She felt like she was jumping off the cliff and into the lake all over again.

"That's a…" Addison tried, reminding Callie that her friend was still here.

"A ship," Callie finished breathlessly. She could feel Addison's eyes on her briefly and knew immediately that she was going into her protective mode.

"We have to go back to the tribe," she hissed as she swam to shallow water and began escaping into the forest. "It's not safe here."

Callie reluctantly followed her. She had no plans of actually going back, but she still wanted to conceal herself in the trees. It was safer to be out of sight. Addison took her arm, but she shook it off and started in the general direction of the ship. "We should take a look."

Addison paled. "What? No! Do you have a death wish?"

"How do you know they're our enemy?" Callie countered, pressing quietly through the trees and staying close to the thicker bushes. "They could be wanting to make peace or maybe they're here to trade, I heard of white men trading beads for animal skins to another tribe up the river once."

"Yeah, or maybe they've come to destroy our village and murder our children! Don't take chances, Callie."

"I'm not going to go barging over there and waving a burning torch," she snapped, "I just want to get a little closer."

Addison stopped Callie with a hand on her chest, forcing her to stay still. "Your father… Chief Torres, remember? He should be the first to investigate these people, him or a group of scouts, but not me and certainly not you. You're the chief's daughter, you can't be taking those kind of risks."

"Addison, I know my place," Callie said, shoving her hand off her chest, "I get reminded of it every day, and for once I refuse to care. You can go run back to father if you want, go tattle on me, but I'm staying here."

"Callie… this is ridiculous!"

She turned to her friend, looking her directly in the eyes. Callie didn't know exactly why going to the ship was so important to her, but the urge was too strong to ignore. "Addison," she said softly, "listen to me, I need to do this. I don't know why, I just know I need to. Please, cover for me, lie for me, say I became ill, anything… I just need two hours."

Addison faltered. Calliope had never asked her for anything before, she was independent. She had never begged for anything, and yet here she was, pleading with her to let her go explore a whiteman's vessel. A vessel that could be filled with hostile, violent men prepared to spear anyone who stepped in their way. The pleading tone in Callie's voice ultimately broke her though, knowing it must be extremely important to her friend for her to react this way. Addison's shoulders slumped forward in defeat slightly, "… you have two hours."

Callie whooped and jumped in the air, latching on to Addison in a bone-cracking hug. "Thank you! Thank you so much! You don't kn-"

"I'll cover for you until the night comes," Addison interrupted, "but if you still haven't returned when the moon hits then I'm telling the chief where you are."

"Fine, fine," Callie waved dismissively at the warning, "don't worry about it, I'll be back long before then."

Addison hesitated, "just… be careful."

Callie smiled, "I will. Thank you."

"See you later?" she asked warily.

"See you later."

And they parted ways.

* * *

**I felt great about the first section, callie and addison on the cliff, but the rest was hard to write. What do you think? Did it work? No meeting between Az and Cal yet, but don't fret: their moment is coming! I loved writing callie, she's so much more of a hopeless romantic than arizona. I got to incorporate some cornyness. Fun times.**

**As always, fill me with your responses! **


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